It's not good to be Black anywhere...

It’s not good to be Black anywhere. It seems like a statement out of left field, but it’s not. It’s a statement that’s etched on my soul. It is continually reinforced by THE WORLD. There is this epidemic: racism, prejudice, bigotry, hatred. Really, if called by any other name would still taste as bitter.

I grew up being told I could be what I wanted to be but knowing that other people would try to take it away from me. I was taught to be afraid. I was taught to be aware.

Many people readily concede that hatred is a learned behavior, but for some reason they refuse to acknowledge that there are still quite a few professors of prejudice trolling the earth. I have been privileged to do a little traveling. And, for the most part, I’ve been pretty well accepted. In many places, I wasn’t there long enough to feel the stings that I have felt at home in the U.S. But, living here in Colombia has opened my eyes.

To be completely honest with you, I have friends who are both foreigners to Colombia and citizens. I experience life with them in the sweetest ways possible: Starbucks runs, clubs, beers at the house, dinner for no reason. Even a trip to Krispy Kreme can become an outing.

I have (or had) a certain innocence here. Despite my age, I have the ability to approach everything with a newness; a wide-eyed youthful and sometimes oblivious view to the certain stains on humanity by humanity.

But every now and again, the realness and awareness that comes with adulthood rears its ugly head. One thing I notice is that those who do not experience it, often think it’s not there. I’ve made comments about race issues and social injustices both at home and here in Colombia. In both places, I’ve found that my well-meaning friends say “It’s not that bad, here” or “We have a bigger problem with XYZ.” It’s easy to say there’s a bigger problem with something else when you’ve no experience with the former. I feel like this unintentional denial of racism’s existence is more harmful than racism itself. These blind eyes allow it to continue unchecked.

Now it’s no secret that I have very strong opinions when it comes to race relations. If you’ve read my blog, I have shared many of them there. It’s also not a secret that I have had a few negative experiences with race in Bogota. I was warned by a friend, prior to my arrival, that racism was alive and well. But I, somewhat naively, assumed it wouldn’t be bad. After all, I was moving to a country of brown-ness. How bad could it be?

Within a week of being here, I had been denied entrance to a club and my intelligence questioned. Because of my skin color, people here assumed (and still do) that I am Afro-Colombian. And, while people often show their approval for my brown skin, it is usually on a sexual level covered in “oye morenita,” and “que rica.” Harsh looks seem to soften when they hear me speak English or realize I’m American and not from the coast.

Last week, I had a class with my adult student. We talked about places we want to go. When I mentioned I wanted to go to Jamaica, he immediately, unapologetically and unflinching said, “I don’t. Too many Black people.” I’m sure you can imagine my stunned look. I remember glancing at my hands just to check that my Blackness was still showing. When he noted my silence and slight discomfort, he “made it better” by saying “not like you. Too many regular Black people.” So what exactly does an irregular versus a regular Black person look like?

I still remained silent which allowed him to continue to dig. He mentioned that he was referring to the Black people with dreads. I immediately pick up my phone to find a picture of my beautiful, strong, educated, not drugged out (why do I even need to put that) mother who has had locked hair for over 10 years. (see below) He says, “right, like that.”

I turned my phone back to me and stated that picture was my mother. He became slightly irritated (yea he became irritated with me) that I was not understanding his point. He said, “I just mean that when I think of Jamaica, I think of all kinds of drugs, weed, reggae music and lots of the other Black people.”

I could go on to tell you that I had to explain that using the term “my nigger” to refer to me was not appropriate; but I won’t. I could also go into detail about how he admitted he didn’t want to hire me because of my skin color; but I won’t.

But I wonder how many people still have these ideas, perpetuated by a slanted, money-driven media, floating in their heads? I told him that when I first announced my intentions to move to Colombia, drugs was the first word that fell from the lips of my friends and family. He quickly dismissed it as stupid, saying that’s not what all of Colombia is. I remarked, “I know. Stereotypes are dangerous.”

Today, in the U.S., police brutality with respect to race litters our news broadcasts. Hashtags are created every day and fill our newsfeeds. Driving while Black, smiling while Black and standing while Black are clever words that illustrate the dangers of simply being Black while doing every-day activities.

Earlier this week, Semana.com, a Colombian newspaper posted a video and an article using a local girl’s video of a police stop (video at the end of this post). The first line of the article asks if Colombia is still a racist country filled with prejudices. The fact that that question even has to be asked is part of the problem. Some of the unafflicted are quick to question, dismiss and/or minimize it as an entire people blowing something out of proportion.

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know the whole story. I don’t know the reason for this stop. I’m usually completely against hopping on a bandwagon of anger without knowing what preceded it. I will say that the girl who posted it also said she agreed that he was unfairly questioned.

The video is in Spanish. I realize that many of the people who read my blog do not speak Spanish. So below is a loose translation of a few phrases the detained man yells:

Why do you only stop the two Black people?

Why are you requiring my papers and ID?

You don’t stop the White people because they don’t represent danger.

We are equal before the law.

It’s normal to be in a hurry at 8am. But because I’m Black, my hurry is suspect.

They don’t respect our humanity.

Whether you understand the words or not, what is obvious is his anger. It’s quick to notice. It’s clear and easily discernible. But what you may not see is the pain, sadness and fear. There is a pain that he has to prove his worth, a sadness that society continually denounces and/or undermines this worth and the fear that this will never end.

Perhaps I recognize it because it is something that I carry with me. His external protest and anger is a reflection of the feelings that all people of color have felt at one time or another.

These things have led me to my original assertion: It’s not good to be Black anywhere.

In one of my previous blogs, I talked about the similarities in everyone’s stories, saying my story is your story. We each have parts in each other’s life productions. We each have a cameo appearance in the lives of those around us.

So here’s my take on the video. You see a few of the following characters:

The afflicted party who wants to be heard

The afflicter

The girl videoing it to prove and share that this problem exists

The girl’s friend who asked if they were done yet

(I believe this representation of apathy is the worst culprit of all)

The guy who approaches the afflicted and validates his feelings

The scripts are out. What character will you play?